p S 3537 
US9 16 

1900 

Copy I 




OTHER SKETCHES 

By Evelyn Greenleaf Sutherland 




IQOO 



Walter H. Baker 6 Co. Boston 



I N 

OFFICE 
HOURS 



And Other SKETCHES for 
Vaudeville or Private ACTING 

By 
Evelyn Greenleaf Sutherland 




Boston 
WALTER H. BAKER & CO. 

1900 



IN OFFICE 



HOURS 




Copyright, igoo, 
by Walter H. Baker tf Co. 

5SGG7 



/ 



Libwkry of Congr-«» 

"*wu Copies Reofiveo 
SEP 29 1900 

Copyright entry 

SECOND COPY. 

D*-!'Vrr<*< to 

0H0LR DIVISION, 

OCT 22 



CONTENTS 

IN OFFICE HOURS .... p age 5 

A QUILTING PARTY IN THE THIRTIES - Page 25 

IN AUNT CHLOE'S CABIN - - - Page 35 

THE STORY OF A FAMOUS WEDDING - Page 51 



THESE SKETCHES HAVE ALL BEEN PRODUCED WITH CONSPIC- 
UOUS SUCCESS, UPON THE OCCASIONS SPECIFIED. THEY MAY 
BE PERFORMED BY AMATEURS WITHOUT THE PAYMENT OF 
ROYALTY, BUT MANAGERS OR PROFESSIONAL PLAYERS WISH- 
ING TO PRODUCE THEM SHOULD FIRST COMMUNICATE WITH 
THE AUTHOR IN CARE OF THE PUBLISHERS. 



IN OFFICE HOURS 

A Comedy SKETCH in One ACT 
by Evelyn Greenleaf Sutherland 



(Originally produced by the Students of the Boston University 
School of Medicine , April 7, 1899) 



IN OFFICE HOURS 
CHARACTERS 



DOCTOR ROGER ELIOT 
MR. WOBBLEMORE 
MR. HUSTLETON 
MR. VAN SHEKELS 
CAESAR, THE OFFICE BOY 
DOCTOR SALLIE FLOYD 
MRS. SKIPNIX 
MRS. WOBBLEMORE 
MISS GOLFE 



COSTUMES MODERN 



COPYRIGHT, I90O, BY WALTER H. BAKER & CO. 



IN OFFICE HOURS 



SCENE. — A doctor s office. The room is of very 
moderate size, and quite simply furnished, though 
with all possible suggestion of its professional uses ; 
as an examination table, a bookcase, with heavy pro- 
fessional-looking volumes, a desk on which is a stetho- 
scope, an electric lamp for throat-examinations, etc. 
Tliere is also a large far, containing tmmedicated 
tablets. As the curtain rises, Dr. Roger Eliot is 
discovered, seated at the desk, reading. He takes a 
cigar from his case, and reaches out for a match from 
the box on the desk. CAESAR is endeavoring to steal 
afczv tablets from the jar on the desk. Several times 
he almost succeeds, when some chance movement of 
Dr. Eliot's startles him, and he retreats. This is 
repeated once or twice ; and then Dr. ELIOT looks 
up. 

Dr. E. I say! Is your nest anywhere about here? 

Caesar (with a jump'). Sah ? Nest, sah ? 

Dr. E. I never saw that particular combination of 
dodge and flutter, except where there was a nest in the 
neighborhood somewhere. So I inquired. 

Caesar. I ain't got no nest, sah. Fo' de Lawd, sah, 
dat's so ! 

Dr. E. Then what does seem to possess you? 

Caesar. Beg yo' pardon, sah — but yo' is smokin', 
sah ! 

Dr. E. And smoke is against your principles, eh ? 

7 



in Ojfice Hours 



You never use tobacco, it is a filthy weed, . . . you never 
put it in your mouth, like little Robert Reed ; that sort 
of thing, eh ? 

Caesar (dreadfully bezvildered). Ya-as sah ! I — I 
mean — no, sah! I mean — Miss Dr. Floyd will be 
here in a minute, and Miss Dr. Floyd have a patient, — 
and Miss Dr. Floyd's patient she have de nervous 
prospectses, sah, — an' she moughtn't — 

Dr. E. {looking at his watch). Miss Dr. Floyd, eh? 
Yes, that's right. How time does pass in one's leisure 
hours — I mean one's office-hours! In four minutes 
this abode of ifLsculapius belongs to my fellow-tenant, 
under this blessed Box-and-Cox arrangement of ours. 
And so Miss Dr. Floyd has a patient? Happy Miss 
Dr. Floyd ! (He goes to the closet, takes down his coat, 
and begins leisurely to take off his office jacket.) 

Caesar. Ya-as, sah, Miss Dr. Floyd have a patient, 
and de patient have symptoms, sah ! 

( Takes down coat and brushes it. ) 

Dr. E. That is very interesting. Are you treating 
Miss Dr. Floyd's patient, also, may I ask ? 

Caesar. No-o, sah. But when Miss Dr. Floyd ain't 
come, sah, de patient done talk to me, sah, 'cos she 
have so many symptoms, sah. 

Dr. E. Happy fellow-tenant ! (Then the door opens 
suddenly, and MRS. SKIPNIX enters. At sight of "Dr. E. 
site pauses, starts, peers agitatedly but unseeingly through 
her spectacles, takes them off, puts them in her bag, takes 
out another pair, and adjusts them on her nose.') 

Mrs. Skip. You — you — you ain't my doctor ! 

Dr. E. (hastily resuming office -jacket) . I regret to 



In Office Hours 



say, madam, that a great many other people might say 
that with equal truth. 

Mrs. Skip. If you ain't my doctor, what are you 
here for ? (Becoming wildly agitated?) I say, what 
are you here for, in my doctor's office ? {To Caesar, very 
suddenly and sharply) Why don't you call the police ? 

(CAESAR, who has just stolen a handful of the tablets, 
startled, chokes.) 

Ccesar. Don't want no police. Dis yer's Massa Dr. 
Eliot, and dis is Massa Dr. Eliot's office half de time, 
and Miss Dr. Floyd's office de other half de time! 

Dr. E. Do me the justice to add, Caesar, that this 
is my half of the time. Miss Dr. Floyd's rights do 
not begin for (consults watcli) one minute and three- 
quarters. 

Mrs. Skip. You — you — you have this office with 
my doctor ? 

Dr. E. Pardon me. That is what I don't do. I 
have this office without your doctor, who is due here in 
three-quarters of a minute. My dear madam, it is very 
simple. Down-town offices are not offered to the 
medical aspirant without money and without price. 
If two doctors keep hours in the same office — different 
hours, my dear madam! — different hours! — the 
money and the price are more readily forthcoming. I 
trust I make myself clear ? 

Mrs. Skip. I don't believe a word you say. You've 
got a hard, bad face. I believe you're my doctor's 
young man, and you're cruelly deceiving her ; that's 
what I believe ! 

Dr. E. Your doctor's young man — well, of all 

9 



In Office Hours 



the — ! I never set eyes on your doctor in the whole 
course of my life, and I never want to! Of all the — 

Mrs. Skip, (shrilly). I don't believe a word you 
say ! I don't believe a word you say ! You wait till I 
see my doctor, and you'll get shown up in your true 
colors — you see ! — you see! {To Caesar.) Show 
me to that room over there, where I can set an' wait 
for my doctor ! Don't you believe a word that man 
says ! Mark my words, you'd better telephone for the 
police ! 

{She follows Caesar out, in the opposite direction from, 
that in wJiicli she entered.) 

Dr. E. Well, of all the — . {Animated pantomime, 
suggestive of strong language.) If that's the kind of 
symptoms she indulges in {here Dr. Floyd enters), I 
should like to prescribe a shower-bath ! 

Dr. F. Thank you. That might be a good idea. 
I've tried nearly everything else. 

(Dr. Eliot turns at the sound of her voice, and, his 
office-jacket being off, and Ids coat not yet on, faces her 
in much confusion. He puts on office-jacket again. ) 

Dr. E. I beg your pardon. There's a rip in the 
sleeve of this infernal thing, and it only goes on with 
prayer and fasting. 

Dr. F. You're quite excusable. {She begins lei- 
surely to remove her hat, gloves, etc.) But, if you'll 
excuse the suggestion, I {as she notices that he is wild- 
ly trying to force his coat on over his office jacket) — - 1 
think if you took your jacket off before you put your 
coat on — 

Dr. E. Thank you. {Removes jacket, and puts on 

10 



In Office Hours 



coat.) I guess I'm rattled. Caesar didn't tell me that Miss 
Dr. Floyd — I beg your pardon — Dr. Floyd — had 
two patients. 

Dr. F. She hasn't. It's humiliating, but she hasn't 
— I'm not a patient, you know. I'm the doctor. 

Dr. E. You — you are Dr. Floyd ? 

Dr. F. The same. At your service. 

Dr. E. You Dr. Floyd, and my fellow-tenant ? 
Well, I'll be — 

Dr. F. {hastily). O, I hope not, I'm sure! Why 
shouldn't I be Dr. Floyd ? 

Dr. E. Why, I thought you — why, I thought all 
women doctors — 

Dr. F. Wore short hair and queer petticoats ? Evi- 
dently you're not a co-ed. 

Dr. E. No. I'm a Hahnemann man. 

Dr. F. Hahnemann's right enough, but it isn't a 
patch on B. U. S. M.* 

Dr. E. I'm too knocked out to argue. (As he is 
preparing to go.) I'm sorry I didn't know you be- 
fore. 

Dr. F. Why? 

Dr. E. O, well — we might have gone together to 
pick out the furniture. 

Dr. F. Good idea. Save getting duplicates. 

Dr. E. Yes. And then it's such jolly good fun — 
picking out furniture. 

Dr. F. Especially on the instalment plan. 

Dr. E. Yes. Well — I suppose I must be going. 

* Here can be substituted the name of any college popular in the company 
by which the sketch is played. 

II 



In Office Hours 



Dr. F. I suppose so. My one patient is likely to 
appear almost any time. 

Dr. E. Lucky fellow-tenant, to have one patient ! 

Dr. F. You're worn out with too many ? 

Dr. E. Guess again. I'm worn out waiting for my 
first one. 

Dr. F. Why, haven't you — 

Dr. E. Nary. 

Dr. F. Then how do you — 

Dr. E. Do I pay my half of our rent ? O, cheer 
up. I have an allowance from my uncle. 

Dr. F. Lucky fellow-tenant ! 

Dr. E. Don't deceive yourself. My uncle believes 
in the young roughing it. My allowance is the small- 
est in educational history. 

Dr. F. Lay you a dime that mine is smaller. 

Dr. E. (y feeling in his pockets) . I can't see you. I've 
only a nickel left. My allowance is due this afternoon 
(Lays a nickel on the desk.) 

Dr. F. It wouldn't be fair ; I should win. My aunt 
allows me three dollars a week. She's afraid that if I 
had more, I should succumb to the snares of a great 
city. 

Dr. E. Yes, you'd have won. My uncle allows me 
fifteen a month. Hereafter I shall regard it as princely. 
Good afternoon, doctor. 

Dr. F. Good afternoon, doctor. 

Dr. E. {returning). I say! Where have I seen 
you before? 

Dr. F. I can't say positively, but I think it likely we 
patronize the same-priced restaurants. 

12 



In Office Hours 



Dr. E. Maybe that's it. Good afternoon. 

Dr. F. Good afternoon, doctor. {He goes out.) 

(Dr. F. laughs and touches a bell on the desk. 
Caesar enters. ) 

Dr. F. Is the patient there, Caesar? 

Caesar. Ya-as'm. {He edges around the desk to- 
ward tlu -jar of tablets.) 

Dr. F. Tell her to come in. 

Caesar {with his mouth full of tablets). Ya-as'm. 
{He goes out.) 

Dr. F. What's that boy eating? {Notices that the 
cover of the jar is off.) O ! That's it, is it? I thought 
my sugar-of-milk tablets went rather briskly. 
(Dr. E. enters.) 

Dr. E. I merely came back to say that I hope if 
you need a consultant on the case of that one patient 
of yours you'll remember a fellow-tenant. 

Dr. F. You can count on me, if you'll share the 
proceeds. Meanwhile, what would you advise for an 
office-boy who consumes sugar-of-milk without asking 
permission? 

Dr. E. {consulting pocket repertory). Tartar emetic. 

Dr. F. Good. Better than ipecac. I'd been think- 
ing of ipecac. 

Dr. E. Either ought to do. If they fail, call me in 
and I'll try a rattan treatment. 

Dr. F. You really have ideas. Good afternoon. 

Dr. E. Good afternoon, doctor. {He goes out.) 

(Dr. F. opens a drawer of the desk and takes out a 
bottle. She empties the sac -lac tablets out of the jar, and 
puts back a few that she has moistened from the bottle.) 

13 



In Office Hours 



Dr. F. The way of the transgressor will be achey ! 
{Enter Caesar, showing in Mrs. Skipnix.) 

Mrs. Skip. Is he gone ? 

(CAESAR, the doctor pitrposely not noticing him, steals 
a handful of the pellets and goes out.) 

Dr. F. Is he gone? 

Mrs. Skip. Your young man. 

Dr. F. No ; he hasn't come yet. I've been waiting 
for him twenty odd years. 

Mrs. Skip. I mean the young man with the hard 
and evil face that I found here when I first came in. 
(Scats herself.) 

Dr. F. I suppose you mean Dr. Eliot, who has 
desk-room here. 

Mrs. Skip, (hitches chair nearer DR. F.). O, my 
dear young friend, do not deceive yourself. The ways 
of the tempter are — 

Dr. F. Your symptoms, please, Mrs. Skipnix? 

Mrs. Skip. I never yet was mistook in my judg- 
ments of character, and if ever I saw a dark an' evil 
face — 

Dr. F. My time is limited, Mrs. Skipnix, and if you 
would kindly come to your symptoms — 

(Caesar enters. His face is less black, by several 
shades, having an ashen pallor.) 

Caesar. There's another patient askin' for yo', an' I 
reckon I'm dyin' myself. 

Dr. F. I'll see the other patient presently. And 
you won't die for half an hour or so. 

(Caesar presses his hands to his stomach, with a 
hollow groan, and goes out.) 

14 



In Office Ht 



ours 



Dr. F. Now, your symptoms, Mrs. Skipnix ! 

Mrs. Skip. If ever I saw a dark an' evil — 

Dr. F. {rising impatiently). Really, Mrs. Skipnix, 
you heard what my office-boy said. 

Mrs. Skip. Set down — I'm a comin' to it. It's a 
perfectly new symptom. 

Dr. F. {sits). Where is it? 

Mrs. Skip. In my almanac. 

Dr. F. In your — 

Mrs. Skip, {producing a pamphlet bound in the gau- 
diest possible colors). In my "Ready Rejuvenator 
Almanac." They give one away with every two bottles. 

Dr. F. Do I understand you are taking another 
treatment than mine ? 

Mrs. Skip. Lord bless your soul ! did you think any 
one doctor could cover as many symptoms as I've got? 
I take your medicine Mondays and Fridays, an' the 
"Rejuvenator" Wednesdays and Sundays; an' the 
other days — 

Dr. F. Excuse me, Mrs. Skipnix, but until you are 
prepared to follow my directions exclusively, I must 
decline to prescribe further for you. 

Mrs. Skip, {rising). Well, the conceit of these 
beginners ! My family doctor, says he, Mrs. Skipnix, 
says he, if I was to undertake to cover all your symp- 
toms, says he, I should have to hire an assistant, says 
he, besides givin' up week-days an' Sundays to it, says 
he. An' to think — {She edges toward the door, the 
doctor standing and waiting for her to go.) An' over 
an' above all, I am bound as a mother to say that of all 
the dark an' evil faces — 

15 



In Office Hours 



(Dr. F. rings her bell. Caesar instantly falls into 
the room, as if he had been leaning against the door 
on the outside. He is several shades grayer still. He 
wildly and weakly staggers against Mrs. Skip, in the 
effort to show her out. She is agitatedly changing her 
spectacles, with a view to examining him more closely, 
as they go out together. As they go, Dr. Eliot enters 
from the other side.) 

Dr. F. O my prophetic soul ! Were you the other 
patient? 

Dr. E. Not at all, O popular practitioner ! There 
are four, no less, waiting outside. This is your busy 
day. I merely came back for my umbrella. 

Dr. F. Don't tell me it's raining ! 

Dr. E. Level torrents. 

Dr. F. O, my last and only spring bonnet ! 

Dr. E. I hoped — I mean I was afraid you hadn't 
any umbrella. May I wait outside and see you to the 
car? 

Dr. F. Will you ? O fellow-tenant, you are an 
angel ! 

Dr. E. Doctors aren't angels — only angel-makers, 
now and then. I wait your sovereign leisure. I cer- 
tainly have seen you somewhere before ! ([He goes 
out.) 

(Caesar staggers limply in, showing in Mr. Hustle- 
ton. He enters at top speed, zvatch in hand.) 

Hustle. Train to catch, in six and a half minutes. 
Want a prescription. 

Dr. F. {after critically surveying him through her 
eyeglasses). Begun to see snakes yet? 

\6 



In Office Hours 



Hustle. No ; nothing bigger than beetles. 

Dr. F. Head splitting? 

Hustle. Bustin'. 

Dr. F. Thirsty ? 

Hustle. I could bankrupt a reservoir. 

Dr. F. {who has been filling a bottle with tablets). 
There you are. {Hands him the bottle.) Live on hot 
•beef-tea a day or two ; soak your head in ice-water 
whenever you get a chance ; and pull up. If you don't, 
you'll see snakes within a week — good-sized ones, too. 
Two dollars, please. 

Hustle, {hands a bill). There's a V. Never mind 
the change. You're the only woman I ever saw that 
had a head. {Goes to door ; returns.) Are you mar- 
ried? 

Dr. F. No. 

Hustle. Want to be ? 

Dr. F. Not to-day. There's the change. Good 
afternoon. 

Hustle. I'm sorry. You've really got a head. {Looks 
at ivatch.) Gee ! I've got to hustle for that train ! 
{Goes out on the run.) 

(Dr. F. rings bell. As before, Caesar falls in, still 
several shades grayer. ) 

Dr. F. Well, what next? 

Caesar. Death an' de debble, I reckon. 

Dr. F. I didn't mean for yourself. I know what is 
going to happen to you. I meant the next patient. 

Caesar. Ya-as'm. (He staggers out.) 

Dr. F. Three patients ! I shall consider taking an 
assistant. 

17 



hi Office Hours 



{Enter CAESAR, showing in Mr. and MRS. WOBBLE- 
MORE. MR. W. draws his shawl apprehensively about 
his shoulders.} 

Mr. W. {looking ajfriglitedly at Caesar, who is stag- 
gering). There — there's something wrong about that 
boy — there's something dreadfully wrong. 

Dr. F. Yes — that's why I get him cheap. (Caesar, 
unobserved, falls down behind so/a, R.) 

Mrs. W. Don't bother, Solomon — attend to busi- 
ness ! 

Mr. W. {feebly seating himself, R. C). One mo- 
ment, Maria. There's a draft. I can distinctly feel 
a draft. I must decline to attend to anything before 
that draft is attended to. 

Mrs. W. Don't bother, Solomon ! Do you think 
you can do anything for him? (Suddenly , to DR. F.) 

Dr. F. That depends. What's the matter with him ? 

Mrs. W. Nothing. (Mr. W. moans feebly^ 

Dr. F. That's a complicated thing to treat. What's 
been done for him? 

Mrs. W. Everything. We've taken the doctors in 
alphabetical order. He likes it best that way, for 
fear I'll skip somebody. He's taken every " pathy " 
in creation. 

Mr. W. I haven't, Maria. There's a new one — 
clam — clam — its something to do with a clam. 

Mrs. W. Don't bother, Solomon. It isn't anything 
to do with a clam. You haven't struck it yet. 

Mr. W. Clam — clam — 

Dr. F. Try oyster-pathy. Osteopathy, you know. 

Mr. W. That's it. 



In Office Hours 

Mrs. W. Don't bother, Solomon. The oyster-men 
come below the F's. She's an F. Go ahead. (Dr. F. 
draws a chair beside Mr. W. ; sits.) 

Dr. F. What do you seem to feel, yourself, is the 

matter with you ? 

Mr. W. (in a hoarse whisper, pointing to his wife, who 
is moving about examining the objects in the room). Her ! 

Dr. F. Eh? 

Mr. W. Her. She's the matter with me. She 
married me in infancy. In my infancy. She was a 
friend of my mother's. I was born delicate. She 
married me to toughen me. She's awfully tough her- 
self. She's almost killed me. She gives me an ice- 
cold bath every morning — 

Mrs. W. Solomon, don't bother ! You see, don't 
you, Doctor, there's nothing on earth the matter with 
him. He might as well go to oyster-pathy. 

Mr. W. (in the same sepulchral whisper). She 
makes me sleep on a mattress that ain't any thicker 
than an envelope. She — 

Dr. F. See here — how would you like to go south ? 
With a nurse, you know ? With a personally selected 

nurse? 

Mr. W. (with a gasp of ecstasy). Alone? (Dr. 
F. nods.) By myself? (AW* again.) Without her? 
(DR. F. nods.) Gee ! ! ( With a wide, pale grin.) 

Dr. F. (rises). Madam, if you really wish my 
opinion on your husband's condition, it is that he needs 
toughening. (Mr. W. gives a short groan.) 

Mrs. W. Haven't I said so for the last ten years ? 
Haven't I — 

19 



In Office Hours 



Dr. F. Undoubtedly. But in my opinion, a hus- 
band, while he is in his wife's too indulgent care, is 
shielded from the influences that tend to genuine tough- 
ening. (Mr. W '. grins feebly. ,) I should recommend, 
in your husband's case, a trip without your company, 
in the hands of an unsympathetic professional nurse — 
a rather prolonged trip (Mr. W.'s grin widens.), say 
to Cuba, or Jamaica. 

Mr. W. What's the matter with the Philippines, 
Maria? 

Mrs. W. Don't bother, Solomon, with what doesn't 
concern you ! That's a good notion, Doctor. (Mr. W. 
rises and moves gently to door. ) And it would give me 
time for a little steeplechasing — I think well of it. 
Two dollars? 

Dr. F. Two dollars. Thank you. 

Mr. W. By myself ! At a safe distance! Tol-de- 
lol-de-lol — {He executes a few feeble and ungainly 
dance-steps.) 

Mrs. W. Solomon ! {She goes out.) 

Mr. W. {collapsing). I felt a draft, my dear — I 
felt a draft. {To Dr. F., in a hoarse whisper, as he 
goes.) I'm going to send you a cheque to-morrow ! 

{As Mr. and Mrs. W. go out, MlSS Goyyy enters, on 
the run, nearly oversetting them.) 

Miss G. {rushing up to Dr. F.). I say! It's awfully 
wrong to marry, isn't it, now, when you have epileptic 
fits? 

Dr. F. {after a gasp) . Awfully. 

Miss G. Then I'm going to have 'em ! 

Dr. F. To order? 

20 



In Office Hours 

Miss G. To order ! I was a peach in college the- 
atricals. Say — he'll be here in a minute. It's like 
this. My stepmother wants me to marry a fool. He's 
her nephew — he's got some money. I can't go away till 
I'm of age, and I won't have him botherin' round. I 
told him I had epileptic fits. He said he didn't believe it. 
I told him you were my doctor, and you would tell him — 

Dr. F. But, my dear child — 

Miss G. 0, hold on a minute ! All you've got to 
tell him is that it's wicked to marry any one with epi- 
leptic fits, and I'll do the rest. 

Dr. F. But — 

Miss G. {rushing across to chair, R. C). O, this is 

him ! 

(Mr. Van Shekels enters.) 

Mr. V. S. You are Miss Golfe's physician ? 

Dr. F. Is that her name? I — I mean — yes ; I 
suppose so. 

Mr. V. S. Do you consider — 

(MlSS G. shows signs of approaching Jits.) 

Dr. F. That marriage, with a history of previous 
epilepsy, is justifiable? Distinctly, I do not. 

Mr. V. S. But the question is, don't you know — 

{Here Miss G. gives a loud scream, and falls into a 

most appalling fit.) 

Dr. F. {rushing to MlSS G. and tending her). You 
see for yourself. The very sight of you has brought her 
malady on this unhappy girl. I beg of you, leave her 
to me. Make no further effort to see her. 

Mr. V. S. Effort to see her? I'm going to take 
passage on a Cunarder ! ( Goes hastily.) 



21 



In Ojjice Hours 



Miss G. {embracing Dr. F.). O, you cherub! I've 
done it ! {Goes to mirror ; puts on hat?) You stood by 
me like a man and a brother ! What's your fee ? 

Dr. F. {out of breath ; laughing). Nothing, thank 
you. It's enough to abet a felony, without getting paid 
for it ! 

Miss G. Bless you ! 

{Exit.) 

Dr. F. {sinks into a chair). This has been a very 
busy day, indeed ! Whew ! I wonder if there are any 
more ! {Rings bell.) Caesar ! Caesar ! I wonder if 
that boy is dead? I'm beginning to be scared ! 
{Enter Dr. Eliot.) 

Dr. E. Did anybody call? 

Dr. F. O, I'm so glad you waited ! Where on 
earth do you suppose Caesar is ? 

(A weak voice from behind the sofa moans, " Here I 
is, Miss Doctor Floyd / " Dr. Eliot makes a dive and 
drags out Caesar, bleached almost white, and in a state 
of jitter collapse. They carry him to chair, R. C.) 

Dr. F. O, my goodness gracious ! Rub his hands, 
can't you. What in the world antidotes tartar emetic ? 

Dr. E. How should I know ? I passed my exams, 
six months ago ! 

Dr. F. You helped me kill him — I should think you 
might help me bring him to ! 

Dr. E. O, if that's all ! {In a dreamy voice.) 
There's a circus in town. (Caesar shows abrupt signs 
of returning animation.) It has monkeys, and a pony 
with a spotted tail. I was thinking of giving Caesar a 
ticket to that circus — I'm sorry he's dead. 

22 



In Office Hours 



Caesar {reviving abruptly}. I ain't dead, Massa 
Doctor Eliot — I reckon I kin go to dat circus. Did yo' 
say he had a spotted tail ? I feels a heap aliver. But 
O, Massa Doctor Eliot ! De things dat have been 
happening in my insides ! 

Dr. F. Get up. I'm glad you didn't die this time. 
You shall have some peanuts to eat at the circus. Go 
and lock up the anteroom. (CAESAR makes a 
ivobbly exit.) I'm glad, on the whole, that office-hours 
are over ! Does it still rain ? 

Dr. E. No. It has cleared off ! That's what I 
stayed to tell you. 

Dr. F. {putting on Jier hat and gloves. He assisting 
her). Thank you. Do you remember where you saw 
me, yet ? 

Dr. E. Just not quite. I seem to remember that 
there were Japanese lanterns — and there was music 
somewhere. 

Dr. F. Yes. The band was in front of Holworthy. 
They were playing the Waldteufel waltzes. I wore 
muslins then, and I hadn't graduated into eyeglasses. 
That was your Freshman year at Harvard. It was ever 
so long ago. 

Dr. E. Jupiter Tonans ! You don't mean to tell 
me you're the little Sally Floyd my sister chummed with 
in the prep, school ! 

Dr. F. I'm the Sally Floyd, without the little. 

Dr. E. And you knew all the time ? 

Dr. F. Of course. Did you suppose I'd have gone 
shares in an office with a gentleman of unknown ante- 
cedents ? 

23 



In Office Hours 



Dr. E. Shake hands ! (Catches her hand, holds it 
till she withdraws it. He takes both hands .) Do shake 
hands ! This is the very jolliest go that ever I hit ! I 
say ! — We can begin just where we left off, can't we ? 

Dr. F. Well — not precisely — perhaps — 

Dr. E. No-o — I remember. (He puts on her jack- 
et.) I used to kiss you sometimes, when you were in 
the prep, school. We'll begin just a step or two back, 
since it's too early for us to be buying furniture together 
— I mean too late — too late for us to be buying furni- 
ture together. 

Dr. F. It's been a riotous afternoon. Too much 
money always makes me nervous. Don't you want to 
go to the opera ? I owe you a consultation fee on Cae- 
sar's case, you know. 

Dr. E. Overjoyed ! My allowance must have come 
by this time. . . . We'll have supper at the Touraine. 

Dr. F. I'm glad that you remember now where you 
saw me. It's jolly to have Mamie's brother for a fel- 
low-tenant. 

Dr. E. (as they go out together). Jolly is no name 
for it ! I mean I am so glad to be chums with Mamie's 
sister — I mean — I wish it weren't too early to buy 
furniture — I mean, too late to — too late to — 

(They go out together lie still protesting and she 
laughing at him.) 

Curtain. 



24 



A QUILTING PARTY 
IN THE THIRTIES 

An Outline SKETCH for MUSIC 
by Evelyn Greenleaf Sutherland 



(Originally produced in connection with the Pageant Our Ne w 
England, at the B os ton Theatre. April 10, 1899) 



2 5 



A QUILTING PARTY 
IN THE THIRTIES 
CHARACTERS 



ELDER DAVID ELLIOTT 

HENRY HOLLISTER Originally played by Mr. John 

Franklin Botume 
SAUL APTHORP 
REUBEN LUDD (tenor) 
JIM SMALL (violin) 
BEN COOPER (guitar) 

GRANDMA PAMELA REDTHORNE Originally played by Miss 

Bertha Swift 
PERSIS REDTHORNE Originally played by Miss Maud 

Blackmer 
RACHEL REDTHORNE 

ABIGAIL APTHORP Originally played by Miss Agnes 

Everett 



A CHORUS OF FIFTY OR SO YOUNG PEOPLE 



THE PERIOD IS 183O THE PLACE IS THE REDTHORNE FARM IN 

NORTHERN MAINE THE TIME IS THE EARLY 

EVENING OF A WINTER'S DAY 

Copyright, iipoo, by Waller H. Baker dr 1 Co. 



A Quilting Party in the ' Thirties 

SCENE. — The interior of an old-fashioned kitchen. 
There is a great fireplace, with a fire burning, R. 
Strings of onions, dried apples, hams, etc., hang from 
the rafters. There is a large " dresser," back, L. with 
old-fashioned china, polished tins, etc. A spinning- 
wheel. An old-time clock. A door, back, R. Opaque 
windows; it being night. The kitchen is lighted 
by many tallow candles. A set of quilting-framcs 
are at L. 3. Over t lie fireplace is a " Queen s arm " 
musket. All the young people arc in the centre of 
the stage, singing vigorously under the direction of 
Henry HOLLISTER, the village schoolmaster. 
Grandmother Redthorne sits in a great arm- 
chair by the fire. ELDER ELLIOTT stands by her 
chair, gently beating time to the music. The selec- 
tion is " China." At its conclusion, the group of 
singers breaks up ; the girls go to the quit 'ting-frames 
and set them in motion ; the young men bashfully 
assist them. The GRANDMOTHER and the ELDER 
fall into quiet talk. PERSIS REDTHORNE comes 
forward, her eyes reddened with tears ; she surrep- 
titiously wipes them. HOLLISTER watches her from 
a little distance. RACHEL REDTHORNE comes down 
to Persis. 

Rachel. They will see thee, dear coz ! Dry thine 
eyes, sweeting ; they will rebuke thee for such a face on 
thy birthday ! 

27 



A Quilting Party in the ' Thirties 

Persis. Let them ! Was ever anything so cruel ? 

Rachel. As the Elder's choosing this night of nights 
to take your house for his lodging ? It is a hard wager. 
We had thought to be so gay ! 

Persis. Fine gayety, to stand and sing, and sing, 
songs of the tomb, and the worm, and — 

Abigail Aptliorp {coming suddenly behind them). 
The devil ! ( They spring to either side, with a little 
scream.) 

Abi. Nay ! I did but finish the tale of what songs 
we sang. 

Persis. O, Gail ! Is't not cruel that Elder Elliott 
must needs come to-night, and put all our birthday 
gayety to rout ? 

Abi. Truly the good Elder seems the right man in 
the wrong place, as said the maid who was kissed by her 
sister's husband. 

Rachel. Hush ! The Elder may hear thee ! 

Abi. He has joked jokes in his days, or I cannot 
read the angles of a man's eyes. But his day is at sun- 
set, and it darkens all our noon. Picture it ! We 
might even have danced a reel ! 

Hollistcr. There are two lads in the woodshed, Mis- 
tress Persis, and under their jackets they hide each a 
fiddle. They said they heard there was sport toward 
at the Redthorne Farm to-night, and they would gladly 
lend their gypsy music for a supper and a bed in the 
hay. 

Rachel. The fiddlers to our call, and the Elder at 
the hearth ! Dear Gail, name him again, of whom you 
said we sang ! 

28 



A Quilting Party in the Thirties 

Abi. The de — (Persis pttts her hand over Abi- 
gail's Zips.) 

Persis. Master Hollister, look not too closely at 
mine eyes ! I am as a very child at the loss of my 
birthday sport ! 

Holl. Be comforted, dear Mistress Persis! Be — 
(He bends more closely over her \) 

Abi. Ay, by all means be — (she blows a kiss) dear 
Mistress Persis, since Master Hollister is so willing for 
the consolation, but not so near the Grandame and the 
Elder ! 

Persis {moving timidly from. Hollister). Ah, 
Gail ! Shame to you ! (Hollister and Persis move 
up stage.) 

Abi. Nay, tell the truth and shame the — sh ! Do 
I not know the symptoms of courting, and my wedding 
ring a year old? 

RacJi. And your husband — 

Abi. Asleep in the corner, bless him ! With his 
courting over for safe and all ! Rachel ! Rachel ! 
Think of me ! Our fun and our dance must somehow 
be saved to us, Elder or no Elder. All men are some 
woman's subjects ; would we could find her who could 
queen it over the Elder ! 

Rachel. Such a queen was Grandma Redthorne 
once. 

Abi. Good luck ! O best good luck ! Do you 
mean that the Elder once came a-\vooing Grandma 
Redthorne ? 

Rachel. He has wooed none since ; and it is fifty 
years. 

29 



A Quilting Party in the 'Thirties 

Abi. Good luck indeed. Grandma's eyes are bright 
still, and she is no foe to youth and folly. Our sport is 
sure. 

Rachel. What are you planning, madcap ? 

Abi. Trust me and wait. 

Rachel. Too late ! See, the Elder ! (ABIGAIL 
goes down stage, and talks with Grandma Redthorne.) 

Elder Elliott (speaking to the company. His manner 
is authoritative, yet gentle). It is good that the gather- 
ings of the young move to the sound of godly music. 
Is there none of the youth or maidens who can lift 
another sacred song ? 

Abi. Ay, sure Elder ! That can my good man ! 
Wake, Saul, and lift thy voice in song ! ([She shakes 
Saul [Apthorp, who is asleep and snoring in an arm- 
chair.) 

Saul. Is it day so soon, wife Abigail ! Nay but 
the nights are short ! 

Abi. Wake quickly ! Thou art needed to lift thy 
voice in the hymn of good " Dundee." 

Elder {regarding Saul over his spectacles with 
apprehension). Dundee hath many verses, and her good- 
man hath not the air of a singing brother. 

Holl. His bull, Bashan, in the south pasture, can 
lift a tune more tunefully than he ! 

Grandma. Madcap jade, my niece Abigail ! 

Saul. Sing? Wife Abigail, ever did'st thou say — 

Abi. I say now what I say ! Sing ! 

Saul ( bewildered, but meek. ) Ay, wife Abigail. 

(SAUL drones out, in an interminable, tuneless bellozv, 
a verse of " Dundee." The company cannot disguise 

3o 



A Quilting Party in the ^Thirties 

their dismay. Some stop their ears. Great distress 
grows on the Elder's/^*?. Abigail softly beats time to 
her husband 's singing, zvitli an expression of placid pride 
and pleasure?) 

Elder E. {at conclusion of verse. Hurriedly}. Good- 
man Apthorp seems weary. And " Dundee " hath 
many verses. Let us come to his aid, and unite in a 
chorus. Master Hollister, will you assemble our friends, 
and instruct them in a suitable number ? 

(Holl. assembles the company into position, as at rise of 
curtain. He gives them instruction in dumb show.} 

Abi. I do not think "Dundee" will be in demand 
by the pious, for a day or two ! 

Reuben Ludd {crossing tozvard chorus with RACHEL). 
'Tis aguish sport, to chant plain-songs when one had 
come in the hope of a lively kissing-game ! 

Rachel. Shame upon thee Reuben ! 

Reu. Shame, that I speak to thee of kissing ? 

Rach. Nay, shame that thou did'st speak of it so 
loud! 

( They join the chorus. HOLLISTER taps with Ids 
tuning-fork. All sound. The chorus sings " Strike the 
Cymbals " with the greatest vim and gusto?) 

Grandma (to the Elder. The groups are once more 
breaking up. The young men and women pair off, and sit 
and move about, in picturesque groups, chatting). 'Tis 
a fine, martial, ringing song, the " Cymbals ! " I aye 
liked it well. 

Elder. Thy preference was ever for the church 
militant, Pamela. To my pain, I learned that lesson, 
fifty years ago. 

31 



A Quilting Party in the Thirties 

Grandma. The man that carried that musket, up 
there, gave me the legacy of fighting blood. 'Twas 
kin of mine helped brew the tea the Indians made, in 
Boston Harbor. I was not born or bred an olive- 
branch, David, whatever the Scripture saith. 

Elder. I heard thee sing, in the old years, Pamela, 
a good song of that same tea. It is not a Scriptural 
song, but it lifteth the heart very pleasantly. Wilt 
thou not sing again that song, for the old years' 
sake ? 

Grandma. I sing ? Nay, my voice hath flown away 
on the wings of the old years. 

(The young people surround her, persuading her.") 

Persis. As a birthday giving, grandma ! 

(GRANDMA sings "Revolutionary Tea" ; the young 
people, who are grouped around and behind her, joining 
in the chorus.') 

Elder E. Nay, a dear song ! A dear song ! The new 
songs cannot mate it ! 

Grandma. What know you of the new songs ? You 
hear but the echoes of a dusty pulpit ! Master Hol- 
lister, do you and three of your most tuneful scholars 
sing us a new song, and let it be a song of love ! 

Per. Thou dearest grandma ! (Hugs her?) 

Elder E. Of love ? Fearest thou not, Pamela, that 
with all these youths and maidens — 

Grandma. When young lips are but singing of 
love, David, they are put to truly safe use ! Now, 
Master Hollister ! 

(Hollister, Persis, Rachel and Reuben sing 
" Love s Young Dream," as a quartette, with the verses 

32 



A Quilting Party in the Thirties 

sung as solos. The chorus repeats, piano, the last two lines 
of each versed) 

Elder E. {repeating softly, half in speech, half in 
song). O, there's nothing half so sad in life as love's 
young dream — as love's young dream. 

(The young people move quietly away, leaving the old 
coiiple alone.) 

Grandma. Nay, old friend ! The pine is green even 
when the snow lies thick on the dead roses. Love's 
young dream is as the rose; but the faithful pine is old, 
tried friendship ! 

(He takes her hand and kisses it.) 

Abi. If ever, now — now ! 

(She hurries to the door, and beckons. Enter 
Jim Small, and Ben Cooper, two gypsyish lads, 
ragged, zvith fiddles sticking out from under their jackets.) 

Rachel. Grandmother, here are two lads, from off 
the road, who ask a sup of something hot and comfort- 
ing. 'Tis a cold night. 

Grandma. When ever did the Redthorne Farm refuse 
bite and sup to a wayfarer, warm night or cold ? Make 
them freely welcome ! 

(The two boys bozv and scrape, grinning.) 

Elder (peering at them, benevolently). Be those in- 
fants, they shelter so kindly from the cold? 

Jim (producing his fiddle, witlia chuckle). The baby 
have a fine strong voice in his little stomach, Master 
Parson ! 

(Sensation. The young people crowd forward, breath- 
lessly.) 

Saul. The cat's out o' the bag, as well as the fiddle ! 

33 



A Quilting Party in the 'Thirties 



Elder E. It is Belial that is come amongst us ! 

Reu. I said it ! Our bird is cooked ! 

Hoi. Brown ! 

Grandma. Nay then, David, Belial is an old friend 
of thine and mine. Hast forgotten the dance in Eaton's 
barn, when the old days were young ? We danced that 
dance together, David ; were we ever the worse of it ? 

Elder E. It gave me a heartache, Pamela, that has 
lasted me for five-and-forty years. What was the tune 
the fiddles played that summer night, Pamela? 

(Abigail softly makes signal to the boys ; they begin to 
play " The Girl I Left Behind Me ," very quietly at first, 
then cleaidy. The ELDER is lost in reverie. Abigail 
forms all the company for the dance. At the end of the first 
round of it, when the lad is chasing his partner about for a 
kiss, the ELDER comes suddenly out of his reverie. He 
draws himself up sternly. At the sound of his voice, with 
its severe ecclesiastical ring, the dance pauses, the young 
people shrinking in fright?) 

Elder E. What is this ? I say what have we here ? 

Grandma (rising, laying her hand on Ids arm, and 
smilijig up at him?) What is it, David ? Don't you know ? 
Tis the dance we danced together, in Eaton's barn ! 

(The ELDER relaxes his stem face. He quietly lays 
his hand over hers, as it lies on his arm. They watch 
the dance as it goes on. At the end, as the last lad is 
chasing his partner for a kiss, the ELDER suddenly catches 
GRANDMA'S hand, and draws her into the dance, "foot- 
ing" it gayly, the young people laughing and applauding?) 

Curtain. 
34 



IN 
AUNT CHLOE'S CABIN 

A Negro-Comedy SKETCH in One ACT 

by Evelyn Greenleaf Sutherland 



(Originally produced by the Woman's Professional League 
of New York City, at their famous " all woman's " Minstrel Show, 
at Hammerstei n's Olympia Theatre, May 12, 1898) 



35 



IN AUNT CHLOE'S CABIN 
C HARACTERS 

AS ORIGINALLY CAST 



MAM' MARTHY 

STARILLA EUGENIA 

AUNT CHLOE 

MISS MOLLIE 

MISS MARCIA 

MISS CATHARINE - 

MISS EDITH - 

LILLY LOO 

SARA SAPPHIRA 

MRS. DOCTOR DOLPHUS - 

MRS. EDITOR EMS - 

MRS. JUDGE JONES 

MRS. COLONEL CRACKEM 

THE TWINSON TWINS 

THALIA DEBORAH 

MELPOMENE SIDDONS 



MRS. W. G. JONES 

MISS LAVINIA SHANNON 

MRS. CHAS. CRAIG 

MISS CLARA EVERETT 

MISS MABEL NORTON 

MISS BESSIE GRAHAM 

MISS ELLA GUTHRIDGE 

MISS DAISY LOVERING 

MRS. EMMA SHERIDAN FRY 

- MISS LOUISE RIAL 
MISS ANN WARRINGTON 

MISS LIZZIE RECHELLE 

- MISS JULIA RALPH 



MEMBERS of the shucktown militia, etc. 



Copyright, iqoo, by Walter H. Baker &* Co. 
36 



In Aunt Chloe's Cabin 



SCENE. — The interior- of a negro cabin. The back and 
sides are of rough logs. A fireplace, L. Seats of 
cut-doivn barrels, boxes, wooden benches and bro- 
ken chairs. A possum is roasting whole before 
the fire. Corn-cake is baking, in cover tins, upon the 
hearth. The cabin is illuminated by caudles stuck 
in bottles, and by "pine-knots," in rings, oti the wall. 
Pictures from illustrated papers are pinned to the 
walls. At the R. is a table covered with a black 
cloth ; on it candles are burning, in black bottles ; 
there is a large black teapot on it, and some black 
cups and saucers. Mam' MARTHY, a, hag-like old 
woman of ninety, black, withered, eerie, is crouching 
over the fire, from an armchair in the chimney cor- 
ner, L. Before the curtain rises, there are heard the 
gleeful shouts of children. As the curtain rises, a 
crowd of "pickaninnies, " a dozen or more, of ages 
varying from two to eleven, are rolling and running 
about, eluding STARILLA EUGENIA, zvho is hopeless- 
ly pursuing first one and then another, and calling 
to them, coaxing. After the curtain has risen, enter 
Aunt Chloe, in haste and indignantly. Aunt 
CHLOE is a fat, comely, good-Jiumored darkey of fifty, 
with a bright apron and turban, prosperous-looking, 
and neat. STARILLA EUGENIA is an ungainly, very 
black girl of sixteen, tall, gaunt, with hair tightly 
braided in innumerable pig-tails ; she is dressed in 
a piece of sacking, on whose back the letters "C. O. 
D. Handle With Care ! " are plainly visible. 
37 



In Aunt Chloe s Cabin 



CJdoe. Name o' judgment, Starilla Eugenia, why am 
dose young 'uns racketin' like chickens wid de deleteri- 
ous timmins, when I done said day wuz to be in baid be- 
fo' candle-light ? 

St. Eu. Ask de debble, Aunt Chloe, ma'am ! Ask 
de debble ! I done started in io' to bed dese pickanin- 
nies when de sun wuz two hour high, an' I done chased 
'em f'om Dan to Beersheep, an' back again, an' I ain't 
got no bref, an' I ain't got no — 

CJdoe. You ain't got no sense ! Dat's what yo' 
ain't got ! I done wonder what I feed yo' fo' ! When I 
done want anything else done, I'll jest send de ol' jack- 
ass ; he'll do jes' as much, an' he'll do it a blame sight 
quicker ! 

St. Eu. (sits down suddenly on tJic floor, with a loud 
and dismal wail). O, Aunt Chloe, ma'am, may de 
Lavvd look down — 

Chloe. De Lawd'll have to look down moughty far, 
ter a moughty hot place, ef he's goin' to look whar yo'll 
land ! Quit dat fool projeckin' an ketch dese young 
'uns ! What'll de company think, comin' to a party, 
an' findin' a baby-show ! 

St. Eu. May de Lawd look down! {She gets up, 

and resumes her chasing of the children, in which CHLOE 

joins. The cliildren escape them, laughing and shouting. 

Chloe catches off her enormous carpet-slipper and 

flourishes it ivildly.~) 

Chloe. Ef I once put yo' under dis slipper, yo'll be 
flatter'n Jim Dall's rooster after he done scrapped de 
steam-roller ! Yo' onery little debbles ! 

Mam' Mar. (she speaks in a tiny, high, thin, eerie 

38 



In Aunt Chloe s Cabin 



voice'). O, jes' let dem pickaninnies projec' — jes' let 
dem projec'— an' den see who comes a-visitin' wen 
dey's in baid, in de dark ! 

(The children stop their riot, instantly, and creep over 
to the chimney comer, staring at her in horrified fascina- 
tion?) 

St. En. De Lawd look down ! Who'll come, Mam' 

Marthy ? 

Mam' Mar. He'll be taller'n de chimney, one ob his 
eyes'll be red, like dat coal, dar, and de udder be yal- 
ler like de candle flame, an' he'll come a-creepin', an' 
a-creepin' to de baid, an' he'll say,— " Whar's de chile 
dat ain't asleep 'fo' candle light ? I jes' a-lookin' fo' dat 
chile, to take him wid me to de col', col' grave, to keep 
me warm dar, till de worms — " 

{Her voice is drowned in a yell of universal horror. 
The children, with broken exclamations of repentance, 
scurry off. St. Eu. sits down on the floor, in hysterics^ 
St. En. Taller'n de chimney! O, may de Lawd 
look down ! An one eye red as dat coal ! ! O may de — 
( There is a rap on the kitchen door. St. Eu. yells 
afresh.) 

Chloe. If yo' don't quit dat yell-a-hoolin', yo' bow- 
legged calliope, an' open dat do' fo' de company, I'll 
wear yo' to frazzles ! 

(St. Eu. gets up, tremblingly, and moves toward 
door murmuring in terror, " One eye as big as dat chimney! 
May de " etc. She opens the door; Miss Mollie enters. 
Miss Mollie is a pretty girl of sixteen, white, nicely 
dressed. Chloe, at sight of her, gives a cry of joy, and 
catches her in her arms.) 

39 



In Aunt Chloe s Cabin 



CJrioe. O my lamb ! O my blessin' ! Huccome yo' 
get back from de school, when dere ain't no vacancy 
till Christmas ? 

Mollie. Why, you see, Aunt Chloe, the scarlet fever 
broke out, and they sent us all home. 

Chloe. Praise de Lawd fo' His mercies ! That fever 
obtruded a-puppus, to fetch yo' home in time fo' my 
party. 

Mollie. Party ? 

Chloe. Laws, yaas, honey ! We-uns givin' a big 
party to-night to all de new 'ficial folks, all de doctor, 
an' de lawyer, an' de editor, an' de stage-ladies, an' — 

Mollie. New ones ? Why, where are the old ones ? 

Chloe. De ol' one was all men, honey, an dey didn't 
want no 'ceptions ; but de new ones was women, an' 
yo' know what women is, fo' parties, an' dignitaries, an' 
fiummuxes. 

Mollie. But why are the new ones all women ? You 
mean to say the Doctor — 

St. Eu. Laws, yaas, Miss Mollie ; de Doctor am a 
woman, an' de Judge am a woman, an' de Cunnel — 

Chloe. Starilla Eugenia, does yo' want yo' nose broke 
off? 

(St. Eu. retires precipitately.') 

Mollie. But, Aunt Chloe, where are all the men ? 

Chloe. Where de men ought to be, honey; fightin' 
down Aguinaldo's way ! Dere ain't one las' man lef 
in Shucktown, an' de women is done 'lected deirselves 
to all de offices. An' dey said as I was de social lead- 
eress, an' de first hundred in de four — 

St. Eu. And made de best possum stew — 

40 



In Aunt Chloe s Cabin 



CJdoe {catches up broom, and drives St. Eu. from the 
room}. Yo' pigeon-toed monument. 

St. Eu. (fleeing). May de Lawd look down ! (Exit.) 

Mollie. The men are all gone, Auntie ? 

Chloe. All gone, honey, to help fight, an' de new 
woman fisherals was — 

Mollie. "Fisherals?" O, yes — officials. Go on. 

Chloe. De new women fisherals is goin' to have a 
reception hya to-night. An' we wants it all in the roos- 
tercracked style on dis yearth ; an' my niece Sara Sap- 
phira, what's jest give up her place in Boston, Massachu- 
setts, 'count ob havin' de nervous persecution, she's 
goin' to operate de whole diversion ; an' my granchile, 
Lillie Loo, she's gwine to po' de tea ! 

Mollie. How many grandchildren have you, I 
wonder, Aunt Chloe ? It seems to me you're always 
introducing a new one. 

Chloe. Lawd love yo,' chile, / don' know ! Nebber 
could keep count ob my children, eben ! Lemme see 
— I had seven by my fust, an' eleben by my second, an 
two by my third. He was de one dat got blowed up on 
de train, when we'd been married six months — an' 
thirteen by my fourth — an' then dere was eight or nine 
ob my own. 

(The door is flung violently open, and MRS. DOCTOR 
DOLPHUS enters. She wears an exaggerated make-up as a 
woman doctor, and carries a bag.) 

Mrs. D. Huccome you've had a death in this family 
and not called in a doctor to be 'sponsible ? 

Chloe. Lawd, Mrs. Dr. Dolphus, how abrupt you is? 
There ain't ben no death, ma'm, not in our family; I 

4i 



In Aunt Chloe s Cabin 



wouldn't presume, ma'm, to have no deaths, ma'm, the 
family doctor wasn't 'sponsible for ! 

Mrs. D. {points to black-covered tabic , R..). Den how 
does yo' explain dese colloquialisms ob de tomb ? I saw 
dem troo de window, an' I nearly had peregrination ob 
de heart. 

Mollie (with a cry'). O my goodness, Aunt Chloe, 
how awful ! Why didn't you tell me ? 
(St. Eu. r us lies in.) 

St. Eu. O, is he come ? His one eye as big — (She 
is transfixed by a glare from CHLOE, and subsides.) 

Chloe. Name ob de Lawd, is yo' all conjured ? Dat 
ain't no post mortem ornament, dat ain't; dat's de ta- 
ble fo' our black tea ! 

[Enter Sara Sapphira and Lilly Loo. The former 
is a handsome negro wench showily dressed, in caricature 
of fashionable styles. The latter is a delicate and pretty 
"yellow girl," rather pale and listless, very prettily and 
simply dressed in a neat print frock .) 

Sara. Name o' judgment, Ma'm Chloe, who eber 
said " black tea" ? 

Chloe. Yo' said black tea, yo' wench, an' dat's why 
de black tea prevaricates dar ! 

Sara. I said colored tea, Ma'm Chloe ! Yo' hears 
wid yo' mouf, seems to me ! 

Chloe. Well, colored meant black when I was born 



a nigger 



Mollie. I reckon she meant that folks give teas, 
Auntie, where everything is one pretty color — the flow- 
ers, and the cloth, and the dishes — 

Mrs.D. " Colored tea!" Looks mo' like a black buryin' ! 

42 



In Aunt Chloe s Cabin 



Mollie. I'll bring down some pretty blue dishes, 
Aunt Chloe, and you shall have a blue tea ! 

Chloe. Fo' de Lawd, chile, I don' drink no blue tea ; 
it's bad as a conjure ! 

St. Eu. An' mus' de possum turn blue, Miss Mollie ? 

Mollie. And we'll all come down, Auntie — Edith, 
and Marcia, and the rest; you know, at colored teas, 
they always have some one to sing for them ; and we'll 
be your minstrels to-night ! 

Chloe. Yo, alluz was a serabin, chile ! 
(Exit Mollie.) 

Sara (Jo St. Eu.). Come here, yo' lazy nigger, an' 
help me disembarrass dis monument ! 

(She begins to pull the tea table to pieces?) 

St. Eu. {approaches, gingerly}. It looks pow'ful con- 
juresome ! Are yo' sho' he ain't under dere ? 

Sara. He ? Who ? 

St. Eu. He's taller'n a pine-tree, an' he's got three 
red eyes, an' — 

Chloe. Doctor Dolphus, mam, would yo' mind look- 
in' at my Lilly Loo ? She's ben a-droopin', ma'm, eber 
since winter. She — 

Dr. D. What am de special mizry, Lilly Loo ? 

Lil. Dere ain't no mizry, thank yo', Doctor, ma'm. 
I'm jest tired o' things. 

Dr. D. Dat sounds liversome to me, or maybe it am 
de muscles ob de 'pendicitis. 

(Comic business, to be improvised by actress, of making 
examination by stethoscope, hand-mirror, etc?) 

St. Eu. O, Ma'm Doctor, please ! Ef yo' would 
look down me with dat mirror, please, ma'm, an' lo- 

43 



In Aunt Chloe s Cabin 



cate dat nickel I done swallowed when I was picka- 
ninny ! 

Cldoe. Quit yo' foolin', an' set up, proper ! De 
party am a comin ! 

(Enter the Judge, the Editor, the Twinson Twins, and 
any other characters that may be improvised. There is 
the business of receiving them. The Editor goes about 
making society notes with pencil and book. There is 
local talk, introducing local hits and up-to-date news 
from the war. Each can ivrite in some tiling for herself?) 

Chloe. An' whar am de ladies ob de militia, Jedge 
Jones, ma'm ? 

Judge J. Dey'll be here on a 'brevity, ma'm. Mrs. 
Col. Crackem she was retinered, ma'm, by havin* to 
court-martial Mrs. Lieutenant Lamkin with a hickory bud. 

Editor E. What I would ask, ma'm, life bein' trun- 
cated, an' the paper most ready fo' printin', is whar am 
de entertainment, an' de possum ? 

Cliloe. De entertainment will done begin, ladies, 
with a solone by de two Twinson twins. 
(Specialty?) 

Judge J. An' about dat corn-cake ? 

Chloe (uncovers the corn-cake on the hearth, and 
gives a cry of dismay). Children ob Israel ! Dat hoe- 
cake am burnt black as de frogs ob Egypt! Whar's 
dat fool nigger ? Whar's dat Starilla Eugenia? What 
did I done tell yo' about tendin' dat cake ? 

St. En. I done tend it ! May de Lawd look 
down ! I done burnt it on puppus ! Yo' said yo' 
wanted a black tea, an' I done thought de hoe-cake 
mus' be burned a color to correspond ! 

44 



In Aunt Chloe s Cabin 



Chloe. Ef yo' don' turn out a yellow hoe-cake, in 
ten minutes thar will be another court-martial, when 
Mrs. Col. Crackem comes wid dat hickory bud ! 
St. Eu. De Lawd look down ! 

(She exits hurriedly. .) 
Judge J. Nothin' mo' easier dan to be a jedge, ef ye 
know how ! I done ain't hardly had a case ter try, 
sence I rejudicated de Robinsons' hawg ! 

Editor E. Ef yo' wouldn't mind subtailin' fo' de 
Shucktown Rooster, mam, de innermos' fax o' dat case, 
Sis' Jones ? (Produces note-book.} 

Judge J. Fo' sho', Sis Ems, fo' sho' ! Yo' see, Sis' 
Robinson she say dat hawg was her hawg, an' Sis' Smith 
she say she lie, dat hawg was Jier hawg, an' I say, bein' 
jedge, I say, "Huccome yo' scrap 'bout dat hawg, wen dat 
hawg am in de pen o' Jedge Jones, bein' seized fo' costs ? " 
( There is the bustle of an arrival, outside?) 
Chloe. Decompose yo'selves, ladies ! Here's de 
quality from de house! 

(Enter Misses Mollie, Catherine, Marcia, Edith, 
etc?) 

Chloe. Lawd bless yo' hearts, honeys, we's analysed 
wid de honor ob dis ascension; dat we is ! 

Marcia. It's we who are honored, Auntie, at being 
called to entertain all the officials of Shucktown ! Well, 
what shall it be first ? A story, or a song ? 

(Here can be introduced specialties, ad. lib?) 
Editor E. Come, Lilly Loo, I don't like to see you 
so pale in all this fun ? 

Chloe. Yaas, Doctor Dolphus, ma'm, has you sub- 
scribed fo' Lilly Loo, yet ? 

45 



In Aunt Chloe s Cabin 



Dr. D. I has tole her, Aunt Chloe, mam, dat ef she 
soak a rabbit's hind paw fo' three days in a gallon o' 
gin, an' den take a cupful five times a day, she won't 
have no mo' mizry dis side o' Kingdom Come. 

St. Eu. Fo' Gawd, she won't have no time to have 
nothin' ; she'd be in Kingdom Come after the second 
cup ? 

Catherine. I reckon the best prescription for Lilly 
Loo would be to get Jake home from the war ? 

Sara. I reckon dat prescription's goin' to be swal- 
lered by 'nother young 'ooman ? 

(Lilly Loo breaks into piteous crying?) 

Chloe. Name ob de livin' Moses ! Am dat de mat- 
ter wid my Lilly Loo ? Hab a witch-wench stole her 
plight ? 

Sara. Don' know 'bout no witches ; but ef one pus- 
son's eyes shine mo' dan 'nother pusson's eyes, I don' 
know as a feller's to blame fo' seeing it ! 

Mollie. For shame, Sara Sapphira ! You know 
Jake and Mollie were to have been married this month, 
if he hadn't gone to the war ! 

Sara. But yo' see he did go to the war Miss Mollie ; 
an' maybe he'll do' nother marryin' when he comes back. 

( She tosses her head, and ostentatiously fondles a ring 
with a gaudy glass stone that she wears. ) 

Chloe. Who gibbed yo' dat ring ? 

{This scene is worked up to a tragic pitch, by the tense 
attention and the pantomimic dismay of the onlookers.) 

Sara. Ask Lilly Loo to guess ! 

Chloe. Take it off, yo' devil's shoat ! 

Sara. I reckon not, Aunt Chloe, ma'm ! 

46 



In Aunt Chloes Cabin 



Mam' Mar. O, let her keep it on, let her keep it 
on, an' look at her ringer, when de next moon fulls ! 

Sara {uneasily). What yo' sayin', Mam' Marthy? 

Mam' Alar. I'se jest sayin', let de wench wot steals 
de little gal's man wear dat man's ring li'l longer. 
Jest till de finger begin to grow big, an' big, an' big, an 
dere's somefm' inside dat finger dat moves, an' squirms, 
an' crawls — an' bimeby it's de full ob de moon, and de 
debble thing in de finger breaks de skin, an' looks up 
wid a little green eye, an' hisses, — "Dat finger ain't 
big nuff lodgin' fo' me, no mo' ; let me find dat girl's 
black heart ! " 

(SARA, who has been listening in a trance of horror, 
breaks into an insane scream.} 

Sara. O, Mam' Marthy ! O, name o' Gawd ! Take 
away de conjo' ! take away de conjo' ! 

(She tears madly at the ring.) 

Mam' Mar. Huccome de ring don' come off ? Hue- 
come dat ring don' come off? 

Sara. O yo'se conjured it on ! Yo'se conjured de 
debble thing on ! 

{TJirozvs herself prone on the floor, beating her forehead 
against it.) 

Mam' Mar. Am it a lie dat holds dat ring on ? 

Sara. O Gawd, yes, it am a lie ! It am a lie ! 

Mam' Mar. Git down dar to Lilly Loo, an' 'fess yo' 
lie! 
(Sara, as if hypnotised, drags herself to Lilly's/^/.) 

Sara. O Lilly Loo ! 'Twas all a lie ! All a lie ! 
Jake nebber give me no ring ! I thought mebbe yo'd 
tink he did, an' send Jake away, an' I'd catch him ! 

47 



In Aunt Chloe s Cabin 



( The ring comes off her finger, and she flings it into 
the fire, ,) 

Lilly. Don' cry, Sara Sapphira ! De conjo's done 
gone ; an' Jake he shan't know nothin' — an' I'll be well 
now — an' — don' cry, Sara Sapphira ! 

Sara (weakly ; crouching'). O, Mam' Marthy ! Am 
de conjo' gone ? 

Mam' Mar. De conjo' done gone sound asleep, Sara 
Sapphira — till de lie wakes it up again ! 

(Exeunt Lilly, supporting the hysterical SARA.) 
(A sound of violent altercation is heard outside.) 

Chloe. Name ob Joshua ! What am dat ? My 
nerveses am a frazzle, fo' sho' ! 

(Enter Thalia, dressed as Hamlet, and MELPOMENE, 
dressed as Ophelia?) 

Tha. To be, or not to be? 

Mel. Well, ef yo' has any dubiousness on dat ques- 
tion, Sis Thalia Deborah, I'll jes settle it, right now ! 
It's not to be, dat you does any ob yo' ol' Hamlet silly- 
queers, to bodder dis company, what I has been asked 
to subjucate wid a taste ob de regenrit drama ! 

Tha. Regenrit fiddlestick ! Yo' do Feelers, yo' ol' 
loony jackass in a jute wig, a-sowin' cabbages ! 

(The players can continue a scene, ad. lib., in zvhich 
each tries to do her scene, ending in a free fight, zvhich is 
interrupted by the sound of drums and trumpets outside.) 

Chloe. Praise de Lawd, here's de regular army; an' 
now we'll have peace ! 

(Enter Mrs. Col. Crackem, in full uniform, fol- 
lozved by the Shucktown Guards.) 

Mrs. C. Who's outragin' de peaces ? 

48 



In Aunt Chloe s Cabin 



Chloe. O, Mis' Colonel, ma'm, dese ladies has had a 
triflin' disconnection. 

Col. C. Carry em both out, an' cool 'em under de 
pump ! We must an' will have peace ! 

(Tha. and Mel. are dragged off ".) 

Judge. Mrs. Colonel, mam, what was dem respirin' 
strains we heard, as yo' was a-marchin' on ? 

Col. C. Dem strains, mam, was de natural hymn ob 
de Shucktown Guards ; an' every Shucktonian wuf de 
name, mam, mus' learn to join in de chorus ! 

Editor E. Sing on, mam, an' we'll coruscate ! 

Chloe. Yaas ; an' when it's did, we'll done lead de 
attack on dat possum ! 

(Col. C. and the guards sing the following song, to a 
lively "coon" march, making appropriate movements zvith 
the brooms and hoes ivitli which they are armed?) 

SONG. 

When de men am off, a-servin' ob a gun, 
An' a-marchin' an' a-sailin', day an' night, 

Den am time fo' de ladies ob color done begun 
Jes' to terin fo' a han' in de fight I 

(Chorus.} 
Den shoulder yo' hoe, an' yo' ol corn broom, 

When yo' hear de cunnel holler ; 
Bang 1 bang 1 say de drum, now niggers, make room 

Fo' de march ob de ladies ob color ! 

We've hoed in de fields till our arms is moughty strong, 
And we'll hab de won'dring worl' to know 

Dat dare don't no nigger do de ol' flag wrong, 
While de women kin handle a hoe I 
49 



In Aunt Chloe s Cabin 



(Chorus?) 
Den shoulder yo' hoe, etc. 

We've swep' de flo so tidy an' so well, 

Till de dust flew off 'n de broom ; 
An' we'll sweep all foes from Manila into — 

(A violent bang on the bass drum.) 

Wid de udder end of de broom ! 

(Chorus.) 
Den shoulder yo' hoe, etc. 

(At the conclusion of the song, at the gestured invita- 
tion of Aunt Chloe, the guests make a mad rush for 
the possum?) 

Curtain. 



CO 



THE STORY OF A 
FAMOUS WEDDING 

An Outline SKETCH for MUSIC 
and DANCING 



by Evelyn Greenleaf Sutherland 



(Originally produced at the Boston Theatre in connection 
with the Pageant Our New England, April 10, 1899) 



5" 



THE STORY OF A 
FAMOUS WEDDING 
CHARACTERS 



BENNING WENTWORTH Governor of the Colony of New 

Hampshire. Originally played by 
Clarence Benedict 

LORD HARRY HUNTERS 

LORD MERRINGTON 

REV. ARTHUR BROWN 

JOTHAM 

JACK WRIGHTMORE 

MARTHA HILTON The Governor's Assistant House- 

keeper. Originally played by Mrs. 
Helen Adelaide Shaw 

LADY PARROTTE 

MISTRESS STAVERS 

SALLY 



the time is 1760 

the scene is the drawing-room of governor wentworth, at 

portsmouth, new hampshire 



Copyright, igoo, by Walter H. Baker &° Co. 



52 



The Story of a Famous Wedding 

SCENE. — The draiving-room of Governor Went- 
worth's mansion at Newcastle, New Hampshire. 
The period is 1760 ; the furniture is antique and 
rich ; there is a spinet, and the room is lighted by 
candles in candelabra and sconces. There are flow- 
ers and all possible signs of festivity. As the cur- 
tain rises, there is a burst of laughter from the next 
room, and clinking of glasses. Jotham and Sally 
are arranging a coffee-tray on a table. 
Jotham. Fine doings be toward, Mistress Sally ! 
There be no less two-and-forty coaches of the nobility 
and gentry — ay, and 'tis arms all the world knows they 
bears on their panels — that wait without, in our stable- 
yard ! 

Sally. An' why not ? If folk cannot honor their 
rightful Governor, under the King, God bless him ! 
when 'tis that Governor's birthday, what do they read 
their prayer-books for ? 

JotJiam. Mebbe it's a bigger day yet than the Gov- 
ernor's birthday, Sally, lass ! 

Sally. A bigger day ? What could make it a big- 
ger day ? What addled egg be your wits a sittin' on 
now, Jotham ? 

JotJiam. Addled egg, is it ? Then set you on your 

own ideas till they hatch the devil, for all I'll tell a 

saucy jade the biggest seeing New Hampshire e'er saw ! 

Sally. A real seeing ? Nay, Jotham, dear Jotham, I 

53 



The Story of a Famous Wedding 

ne'er meant to jape ye ! I was but gruntled, Jotham, 
that ye danced with that pernicious Martha so many 
times at the servants' ball, last night, an' with me 
too scantly ! When the finest man in the house flouts 
one, Jotham, a poor weak woman may e'en turn 
shrew ! 

Jotham {deeply flattered). Well, lass, when many 
seek a man, he cannot always be with the one ! An' 
would ye really know the seeing I saw yon i' the kitch- 
en ? What say ye to a wedding-cake ? Ay ! No less 
than a true wedding-cake ; with silver atop, and white 
frost-sweet, too, as thick as — as thick as — 
{Enter Martha.) 

Martha. As thick as the head of an old gossip that 
will draw a cudgel on his crown, by keeping his master's 
guests waiting for their coffee ! Jump at your work, 
man ! 

Jotham. Well, of all the wasp-tongued wenches! 
{Enter Mistress Stavers.) 

Sally {to Stavers). And of all the grand-aired 
wenches ! Tis as if she were housekeeper over us all, 
an' not a serving lass one wi' us, an' no better ! 

Mistress S. Ay, 'tis ever the same sauce-pate as when 
she spilt the town pump's water from her swing pail 
over the bare legs of her, an' — 

Martha. Oh, Mistress Stavers ! That ever you 
should use such indelicacies in a gentleman's drawing- 
room, and that gentleman the Governor ! 

Mistress S. Out upon your japing ! So you japed 
in the days I was inn-mistress o' the Earl o' Halifax ; 
and when I would have called from my tavern door to 

54 



The Story of a Famous IVedding 

teach you manners, " No matter how I look, madame ! " 
says you, " I yet shall ride in my own carriage ! " 

Martha. And when I do, dame dearest, it is you 
shall loll on the seat to face me ! 

Sally. Mayhap 'tis for her the wedding-cake's 
baked below ! Mayhap she weds to-night wi' — who's 
grand enough? Lord! Happen she weds wi' the 
Governor ! ( Titters. ) 

Martha. An' if I do, wench, you shall stoop to pick 
up my dropped handkerchief, and court'sy low, with a 
" By your leave, my lady ! " 

Jotham. Ho! ho! ho! (Raptures of laughter?) 

Sally. Ay, all this shall be, an' no mistake, when 
crows hatch swans, an' she marries the Governor ! By 
your leave, my lady ! 

( With an ironical courtesy. JOTHAM laughs again. 
They go out.) 

Mistress S. Haste ye now an' put that pretty touch 
of thine on the flowers and fairings, that all be as the 
Governor likes when presently he comes in from his 
dinner. Tis a touch that sets all it touches a-blossom- 
ing, lass, runagate though ye were ever ! 

Martha. In all my runnings have I e'er run past 
the door of thy good heart, dear dame, and so home, 
over its threshold ? Have I ? 

Mistress S. (with an embrace). Ay, well have you 
that, and long ago ; and well do you know the same, 
Maid Mischief ! 

Martha. Then lay thy kind hand on my head, — 
thus — motherwise, — and say, " God send thee a clear 
road, and courage to tread it, head up and eyes for- 
ward ! " 

t*rc 55 



The Story of a Famous Wedding 

Mistress S. {hand on Martha's head). What's this 
new folly? 

Martha. Nay, say it, though but in a kiss ! Quick ! 
I hear movement ! The grand folk are here ! 

Mistress S. {kissing her). Have thine own sort of 
blessing, madcap ! There, thou hast pushed my cap 
all awry! Serve them till I come! {Bustles out.) 

Martha. " Mine own sort of blessing ! " Ah ! 
Will mine own choice be a blessing or a ban? How 
stale tastes a game that is won ! 

{Enter Jack Wrightmore.) 

Martha. Jack ! Ah ! What mad sea-sending's here, 
Jack ? 

Jack. The sea hath sent a true-lover to his own, 
Martha ! Come away from all their fripperies and 
wisp-lights ! I — I dare not kiss thee here, and how 
my heart aches for it ! 

Martha. Thou'lt kiss me nevermore, Jack, lad, in 
light or dark. I had writ to tell thee — thy ship was 
not due home this month and more. 

Jack. Thou'lt kiss wi' me no more? Martha! 
Martha! Art mad, lass? 

Martha. Nay, 'tis life that's mad, I think. I never 
gave thee more than hope of promise. There never 
will be more — hush ! Go thy ways, quick ! I must 
serve them that come ! To-morrow they will serve 
me ! Wait but an hour, and thou shalt hear my rid- 
dle read. There ! I'm sorry for thee, Jack, good heart ! 
I'm sorry ! But lad's love's quick outburnt ! There 
are eyes as bright in other harbors ! Go ! 

Jack. It's but an ill dream, lass ! Sure it's but an 
ill dream ! 

56 



The Story of a Famous Wedding 

{He gropes his way blindly out, as Sir Harry 
Hunters and Lord Merrington come in. The 
other guests follow, by groups and pairs ; they stroll 
about the rooms, examining the flotvers and decorations. 
The gentlemen serve the ladies to coffee. ) 

Hunters {watching Jack's departure through his 
lorgnette). 'Fore Gad, what strange sea-beast is that, 
I wonder? 

Martha. One of the sort, my lord, that risks his 
life on the sea, that fine gentlemen may dawdle on shore 
in idle safety ! 

Lord M. {laughing). Well shot, pretty one ! 'Fore 
heaven's that was a neat hit, Harry ! 

Hunters. She's damnably pert ! 

Lord M. She's damnably pretty ! 

Hunters. There's something in the air of this raw 
new country that kills out respect for one's betters ! I'll 
have this wench sent about her business, or I've lost 
my hold on my uncle the Governor ! 
( They go up stage.) 

L.ady Parrotte {coming down stage, with the Rev. 
ARTHUR Brown). A charming party — yes — yes 
— a charming party, on my word ! But how sad that a 
mansion like this should lack a mistress ! 

Brown. Sad indeed ! If the Governor would but 
take a wife ! 

Lady P. Some lady of years, experience, and dis- 
cretion ! 

Brown. Nay ! Let age warm itself at the fire of 
youth, say I ! What joy is in an old woman if a man 
himself be in years? 



57 



The Story of a Famous Wedding 

Lady P. How dare you, sir ! What sentiments 
from a churchman ! 

( They go up stage, he apologizing and she ruffling 
herself in anger.) 

(Enter Gov. Wentworth.) 

Lady P. Ah, Governor ! Grant that I lend you 
my arm to your chair ! 

(As she starts to officiously lend him aid, she steps 
on his swathed and gouty foot. He gives a bovine 
bellow of pain and rage. General consternation.) 

Gov. W. Will somebody lift that two hundred 
pounds of damned old woman off my toe? 

(Martha comes forzvard ; Lady P. is led tip stage 
in tears.) 

Martha. Gently, sir, — now a little to the right — 
that is well? 

(She deftly seats the Governor in his great 
chair.) 

Gov. W. You are a good lass, Martha, — a good 
lass ! You've most of the sound sense in the colony ! 
(She arranges his footstool.) 

Lady P. Such an example for the Governor of a 
colony to set! A widower — and the wench isn't a 
day over two-and-tvventy ! No self-respecting widower 
ever employed a maid-servant unless she squinted ! 
A double squint — nothing else need call itself truly 
moral ! 

Gov. W. Where's my nephew? Harry, lad! 

Hunters. I'm here, uncle. What is it your pleasure 
to want? 

Gov. W. Give us that song, lad, that I praised the 
other day at the hunt breakfast ! Nay, not the one 

58 



The Story of a Famous Wedding 



about the mare — 'tis a devilish fine song, too, that song, 
but not with ladies ! The one with the toast in it ! 

Hunters. Really, uncle, I am not sure that my 
voice — 

Gov. W. To the devil with your voice, sir ! Who 
said anything of your voice? I asked for the song! 

Hunters. At your pleasure, uncle. 

(Hunters sings " Here's to the Maiden of Bashful 
Sixteen" with the guests joining in the chorus.) 

Gov. W. Guests and friends, you have toasted the 
lass of sixteen ! Now I ask you to toast, and a cheer 
with it, the lass of two-and-twenty, whom to-night sees 
sealed my wife. 

(Jmmense sensation ; exclamations of guests, rising 
through the general confused murmur, "His wife!" 
" The Governor marries f " etc., ad lib?) 

Lady P. He takes a wife ! Ah, my beating heart ! 

Gov. W. Ay, friends. The feast is a feast still; 
but now it feasts a wedding ! To-night is my birth- 
night ; it is also my wedding-night ; and you {turning 
to the Rev. Arthur Brown, who is standing near 
him) shall marry me ! 

Lady P. (who is standing near the Rev. A.). I ? 
(In a hysterical scream of joy. She is hustled into the 
background.) 

Rev. A. This — this unexpected — this — 

Gov. W. Great powers, man ! It is I who am to 
be married, and not you ! 

Rev. A. But, your Excellency, — the bride — 

Gov. W. (taking Martha's hand). Is here. The 
best lass in the colony. And from to-night to be its 
greatest lady ! 

59 



The Story of a Famous Wedding 

(A second and yet more profound sensation. The 
amazed guests endeavor to conceal tlieir feelings of dis- 
may.) 

Rev. A. (stammering) . But — but — but — 

Gov. W. But ! ! But ! ! Is the man a goat or a 
parson? Am I Governor or am I not? If I am Gov- 
ernor, by the Lord ! you had best marry me before 
I — 

Rev. A. At once, your Excellency. If you will 
take your place. 

(The Governor and Martha take their places be- 
fore the PARSON. The face of Jack is seen peering in 
over the heads of the servants, who crowd at the doors, 
back. He dashes his hand across his eyes, with a de- 
spairing gesture, and disappears.) 

Lady P. (while the marriage is going on in dumb 
show.) Did I not say it? I know what comes of a 
maid-servant without a squint ! 

Lord M. {to Hunters). If you have not lost all hold 
with your uncle, Harry, lad, have him send the wench 
away! (Laughs.) 

Hunters. And to see my heritage being vowed 
away ! And I fathoms deep with the Jews ! Damna- 
tion ! 

Rev. A. Man and wife. And whom God hath 
joined together let not man put asunder. 

{He congratulates the GOVERNOR and MARTHA. 
The guests approach with congratulations. At the con- 
clusion of the ceremony MARTHA takes off her servant's 
cap, drops it on the floor, and lightly sets her foot on it. 
She takes a rose from her breast and fastens it in her 
hair. All the men in co?igratulating her kiss her hand, 

60 



The Story of a Famous Wedding 

except Sir Harry, who merely bows over it. Gov. 
WENTWORTH stamps, imperiously , ordering him to kiss 
her hand. He does so.) 

Martha {to herself). He has stood stanch to his 
word. A brave heart. That's something. 

Lady P. (congratulating-). And I trust your lady- 
ship may long be spared- to squint — I beg — I beg — 
(She is hustled away.) 

Gov. W. I may not tread a measure with my Lady 
Wentworth, but may I ask you to be my deputy, my 
lord ? ( To MERRINGTON.) 

Lord M. The first dance with Lady Wentworth? 
This is honor indeed ! 

(He leads MARTHA out for the dance. As she passes 
near the doors, back, she kisses her hand gay ly to MIS- 
TRESS St AVERS. As she takes her place at the head of 
the dance, she drops her liandkerchief. She motions 
Sally to pick tip her handkerchief. The girl, in a 
dazed sort of way, obeys. She does not courtesy as she 
does so. The Governor, noticing, roars out.) 

Gov. W. Wench, be these your manners to my 
Lady Wentworth? 

(Sally goes up, courtesies, and murmurs, " By your 
leave, my lady ! " ) 

Jotham (in doorway). If the wench were not Lady 
Wentworth I'd take oath she was the devil ! 

(The music strikes up. As Martha begins the first 
figure of this dance, MISTRESS St AVERS in the doorway 
murmurs between a laugh and a sob, "Ah, Pat ! sweet 
madcap, thou hast kept thy word I " The dance goes on % 
At its conclusion the curtain falls.) 
Curtain. 
61 



